Let me sing you a song, boys, of fire and flame Of a French ammo ship, the Mont-Blanc was her name How the brave Nova Scotia was never the same On the morning when Halifax burned. 'Twas in early December, 1917 She was packed to the gills with grade A TNT They were bound for the fighting in High Germany When to-wards them the other ship turned. The Norwegian ship Imo, some fault in her gears She struck Mont-Blanc's side like the mightiest of spears And the benzol ignited, the captain's worst fears As the fire consumed bow to stern. The people gazed on from their safe distant rooms Watched the soot and the smoke fill the sky with their plumes Though within, the ship's cargo would spell all their dooms How were they to know to be concerned? The crew rowed for shore, lest they burn or they drown They cried "Save your souls!" as they ran through the town But their warnings were nothing but strange foreign sounds For the townsfolk, no French had they learned. One man, Patrick Coleman, in the railway's employ Sent word, "Stop the trains or they'll all be destroyed. This will be my last message. Farewell to you boys." For a true hero's death he had earned. An explosion colossal, when the munitions blew Devastation and debris for miles by and through The Mont-Blanc was gone, and the town with it too And the waters raged up in return. There were heroes and angels, all fated to die Over two thousand souls laid to rest by and by We will always remember and lift a glass high To the morning when Halifax burned.
Lyrics for erika btw: Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein Und das heißt Erika Heiß von hunderttausend kleinen Bienelein Wird umschwärmt Erika Denn ihr Herz ist voller Süßigkeit Zarter Duft entströmt dem Blütenkleid Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein Und das heißt Erika In der Heimat wohnt ein blondes Mägdelein Und das heißt Erika Dieses Mädel ist mein treues Schätzelein Und mein Glück Erika Wenn das Heidekraut rot-lila blüht Singe ich zum Gruß ihr dieses Lied Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein Und das heißt Erika In mein'm Kämmerlein blüht auch ein Blümelein Und das heißt Erika Schon beim Morgengrau'n sowie beim Dämmerschein Schaut's mich an Erika Und dann ist es mir, als spräch' es laut "Denkst du auch an deine kleine Braut?" In der Heimat weint um dich ein Mägdelein Und das heißt Erika
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Let me sing you a song, boys, of fire and flame
Of a French ammo ship, the Mont-Blanc was her name
How the brave Nova Scotia was never the same
On the morning when Halifax burned.
'Twas in early December, 1917
She was packed to the gills with grade A TNT
They were bound for the fighting in High Germany
When to-wards them the other ship turned.
The Norwegian ship Imo, some fault in her gears
She struck Mont-Blanc's side like the mightiest of spears
And the benzol ignited, the captain's worst fears
As the fire consumed bow to stern.
The people gazed on from their safe distant rooms
Watched the soot and the smoke fill the sky with their plumes
Though within, the ship's cargo would spell all their dooms
How were they to know to be concerned?
The crew rowed for shore, lest they burn or they drown
They cried "Save your souls!" as they ran through the town
But their warnings were nothing but strange foreign sounds
For the townsfolk, no French had they learned.
One man, Patrick Coleman, in the railway's employ
Sent word, "Stop the trains or they'll all be destroyed.
This will be my last message. Farewell to you boys."
For a true hero's death he had earned.
An explosion colossal, when the munitions blew
Devastation and debris for miles by and through
The Mont-Blanc was gone, and the town with it too
And the waters raged up in return.
There were heroes and angels, all fated to die
Over two thousand souls laid to rest by and by
We will always remember and lift a glass high
To the morning when Halifax burned.
Lyrics for erika btw:
Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein
Und das heißt
Erika
Heiß von hunderttausend kleinen Bienelein
Wird umschwärmt
Erika
Denn ihr Herz ist voller Süßigkeit
Zarter Duft entströmt dem Blütenkleid
Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein
Und das heißt
Erika
In der Heimat wohnt ein blondes Mägdelein
Und das heißt
Erika
Dieses Mädel ist mein treues Schätzelein
Und mein Glück
Erika
Wenn das Heidekraut rot-lila blüht
Singe ich zum Gruß ihr dieses Lied
Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein
Und das heißt
Erika
In mein'm Kämmerlein blüht auch ein Blümelein
Und das heißt
Erika
Schon beim Morgengrau'n sowie beim Dämmerschein
Schaut's mich an
Erika
Und dann ist es mir, als spräch' es laut
"Denkst du auch an deine kleine Braut?"
In der Heimat weint um dich ein Mägdelein
Und das heißt
Erika
As a Nova Scotian I love seeing folk songs about our province, since they're rare outside of the usual Stan Rogers.
Halifax explosion was terrible